we dress ourselves in excuses and put this shit off until the next day, which ends up being the next year. but my guts have been aching for release since the day i was born. my heart exploded the day my bruises swelled into a psychiatrists wet dream, shot up with a crescendo of problems laid right into my back with a metal tipped belt fitted with his best buckle just for good measure.

i'm so built up, walls surrounding me, their height and their width surpassing any record measured by the wonderful monsters that measure what's the biggest and the bestest and we overflow with our need for recognition. moons draw us close to the shore, so close that we brim to the top with foamy disregard for our own safety and well-being. we wonder why we lose our faith when we should be screeching like banshees, re: our existence that brutally drains our true creativity and we slink into our roles as slaves of the small percentage that drift in and out of our minds. speed to the next red light, exist only as far as your mind will wander.

i'd grab your hand and rest your fingers on my chest if i knew it would make you believe in the world we all know thrives just beneath the surface of our prison/our freedom. all you angels know we struggled in a great war just for the chance to feel a kiss on our lips, the water on our heads, the way our tongues explode as they swell when our senses detect even the slightest chance of some distraction from this, our messy résumé that drags us out of the bed when the sun starts to rise. and then we got convinced it was all the devils great scheme to rob us of our dignity and brilliant etceteras.

a million dead. a million born. repeat. repeat. send in the chorus.

i had a dream we worked together and made a world that would put us right back into the garden of eden. then we dropped a bomb because it seemed like the best idea. except we didn't know we were fucked beyond the galaxy. we were a bit worried about the great stage and the lights and the sounds that drag us deep into a mostly relentless trivia. maybe it was just the starvation playing tricks on my mind again.